


The Art of Subtlety

by emptyswimmingpools



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Coda, Gen, Introspection, Lightwood Siblings Feels, M/M, POV Isabelle Lightwood, Season/Series 01, Sibling Bonding, bi izzy, it's only briefly touched on but it's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyswimmingpools/pseuds/emptyswimmingpools
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there’s one thing Isabelle wants most in the world, it’s her brother’s happiness.</p><p>Or: Izzy’s perspective on Malec, starting from pre-1x01 up until 1x12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

Isabelle vividly remembers the night Alec came out to her. Why wouldn’t she, after all? It was a big deal for him, for their relationship. She’s always been closer-than-close with him, and they’ve always told each other pretty much everything. Isabelle remembers perpetually telling him “it’s okay,” and “you’re normal,” and them hugging like there was no tomorrow. Alec has been incessant upon _never_ mentioning his sexuality ever again since that evening, and Isabelle hasn’t argued against it. Well, maybe a little, but she respects his boundaries at the end of the day.

Alec hasn’t spoken much — if at all — about his personal life since, and he’s been huddled up within his own little bubble of worriedness ever since. It was saddening to watch him slowly build up these walls, as he became more devoted to his duties and as his parents became harsher on him, knowing that there wasn’t a thing she could do to help.

The night Isabelle came out to _him_ , however, was much different; entirely the opposite end of the spectrum. She was confident, accepting of herself — everything Alec _wasn’t_ , and really, still isn’t. It wasn’t a big deal, and the topic was met with such nonchalance and casualness that it had little effect upon their brother-sister dynamic.

Isabelle is happy with herself. She’s tough, caring, and acquires most traits people would find desirable in a person, partner. She feels confident in her own skin and feels a sense of disheartenment run through her veins at the thought of Alec being so unable to feel the same.

Really, if there’s one thing Isabelle wants most in the world, it’s her brother’s happiness. She wants to see him smile more often without force than with, unlike now. She longs to see him at ease with himself, with a severe lack of angst piled up in a multi-tonne weight upon his shoulders. Alec’s strong — she knows this better than anyone, having grown up by his side in daily life and in battle — but in this case, he doesn’t have to be. He just has to let himself be true to who he really is. It takes bravery, sure, but Alec is the bravest person she knows.

He has tendencies to bottle things up, keeping them to himself and never dealing with them in a healthy, successful way. It’s a little frustrating to watch him continue at this endless cycle from Isabelle’s perspective, but he doesn’t seem to want to stop anytime soon.

So if Alec isn’t entirely willing to let himself be happy, then, well, she’s just going to have to take that liberty into her own hands. _Subtly_.

But there’s a flaw to her plan: she doesn’t know how to trigger his happiness. The obvious choice is to set him up with someone, someone who makes him feel like he can be himself with, but Alec is still hopelessly crushing on their dear adoptive brother Jace, and is still 6 foot deep in the closet. But Isabelle doesn’t label herself as a “star matchmaker” for nothing, after all — she’s a pro, and Alec will soon receive a first-hand confirmation of that.

(In complete honesty, she’s never even set anyone up before. She just… strongly pictures herself as someone who would excel in this matter, and that’s that.)


	2. Main Story

When Alec first meets Magnus, she’s not going to deny the second-hand butterflies she gets inside her stomach when she notices how they’re interacting around one another. Magnus is all innuendos and shameless flirting, while Alec is more quiet and flustered, though he shows no sign of disinterest in him.

Isabelle is lucky enough to get to speak to him when he offers her the necklace, insisting she keeps it and even puts it on for her. “About Alec…” Magnus starts to ask her, his voice soft as if to not be heard by anyone but her, “is he more of a flower or cologne man?”

Isabelle can’t decide if he’s asking whether he likes girls and/or boys, or if he’s asking because, for some reason, he wants to buy him something. She shrugs both suggestions off, shoves them under the metaphorical rug in her mind, and simply smiles widely in response, keeping it up as Magnus and Clary continue to converse about the demon.

“Pretty boy, get your team ready,” Magnus requests, and neither Jace nor Alec understand that he’s talking about the latter and not the former. When Magnus corrects them (“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to _you_ ”), Isabelle catches the small, sudden smile Alec has before he turns to Jace and shrugs it off. It’s a smile that’s guarded and looks as if Alec wasn’t quite meant to let it slip; it’s tentative, unexpected, and it sort of makes Isabelle want to smile right back at him and give him a hug.

She also sees just how flustered and stuttery Alec gets when Magnus cracks a mildly suggestive joke, and it’s strange to watch, because he’s usually so much better at remaining composed around other people, regardless of the relationship between them. Take his parents, for example: Isabelle knows that Alec would rather get hit by three consecutive buses than endure a conversation about how Alec “isn’t good enough” — a very false accusation, mind you; Alec’s better than the best, all sibling biasy disregarded. He’s hardworking and focused, intelligent and skilled with his bow and arrow.

Perhaps he’s, to some extent, letting himself actually feel something for Magnus, but the fact remains that he still likes — or at least _thinks_ he likes — Jace and his unfortunate arrogancy in a more-than-platonic way. A sigh escapes her lips just _thinking_ about it, because Jace is straight, and she knows that Alec knows that perfectly well, too. It’s a little odd how Alec’s crush on Jace is just so utterly convenient — it’s like, he knows he never has to deal with his feelings, he knows he never has to tell him, he knows Jace doesn’t like him back. And he just… deals with it. Just like that.

By the Angel, this is frustrating.

Really, meddling with someone else’s relationship — especially Alec’s — is a dangerous thing to do. It’s strictly not her business, not her feelings to deal with, not her man to crush on. But Isabelle sort of feels like she _has_ to; it seems to be the only way he’ll ever come to terms with who he is and who he loves.

Because Alec is her utmost priority, and if he isn’t happy, then Isabelle isn’t either. That’s just how it works.

And so, when Alec isn’t aware, she does something: she subtly gives Magnus his number. She does it after the demon “deceived” Alec, so he’s likely off sulking somewhere instead. It’s only a small thing, sure, but it’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?

She sincerely hopes Magnus calls Alec soon. She also sincerely hopes that Alec doesn’t reject him.

.

Magnus calls Alec.

Isabelle breathes a sigh of relief when Alec tells her, but huffs in an entirely different way when Alec informs her of the actual outcome: Alec had been babysitting Clary (at Jace’s request) and had to say no.

She did, however, crack a smirk when he told her about what he said: “that sounds fun”, and “another time”, like he’s actually considering going out with him.

But the fact that Alec even told her in the first place is surprising in itself; he’s usually ceaselessly avoiding anything even vaguely regarding this topic. It feels all too good to be true, really, like some sort of fairy tale. She didn’t expect to be making this kind of progress _days_ after she made the little pact to herself.

So she won’t take it for granted. Simple.

.

“Promise me you won’t go through with it,” she says to Alec. Her words are loud and sure, spoken in a tone that she hopes to be firm. She knows he’s busy training, but this is just one of those things that _can’t_ wait to be put out into the open. “Promise me you’ll say no.”

Neither Alec nor Isabelle have ever truly gotten on with their parents. Isabelle’s too “slutty” for their liking, and Alec “isn’t good enough” at what he does, and it pisses them both off immensely. The siblings do have their small disagreements every so often, but the one thing they can both agree on in a heartbeat is that Maryse and Robert Lightwood will likely never even come close to winning the _Parents of the Year_ award.

In fact, it’s gotten to the level where she feels a shiver running down her spine at the sight of their presence; no one should have to feel that way about their parents, even if she may or may not deserve it at least vaguely.

So when her father informed her that the family is on thin ice with the Clave and the siblings will have to form a political alliance with another branch of authority via _marriage_ , her heart skips a beat or two, with the utmost unpleasancy.

Alec’s breathing is heavy from training but his words are still clear. “What are you talking about? Say no to what? Izzy, is everything OK?” he asks, much to Isabelle’s surprise — she thought he already knew. Why wouldn’t he, after all? She thought he was more trustworthy than her in her parent’s eyes.

“They’re gonna make you marry, Alec,” she tells him bluntly, straight to the point. She’s just so tired, so angry. All she’s ever wanted is her brother’s happiness and if he goes through with what his parents have planned, he’ll never find it. And to think she had — still has, actually — such high hopes that he and Magnus would work out; it can’t possibly if he says yes. Not if he marries a woman, a woman who he could never love.

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Our parents. They’re making plans for both of us.”

Alec shakes his head, his face sporting confusion and disbelief. “No, that can’t be right. You heard wrong,” he says, obviously in denial. God, Isabelle _wishes_ she had heard wrong.

She’s so angry, she doesn’t know what’s coming over her. All she can see is red. She grabs ahold of Alec’s training stick, forcing him to stop and focus on the situation at hand. “It’s _true_ , Alec!” she exclaims harshly, hoping her words dig deep, knock some sense into him. “They need a political alliance as soon as to restore our family name and our influence at the Clave.”

Alec smiles bitterly, his head shaking slightly once more. “I knew Clary Fray would come back to bite me in the ass,” he says. Isabelle’s heart sinks at the accusation of Clary — she means so well, why doesn’t Alec get that? — but stays quiet. “So I’m getting married, what are _you_ doing?” She explains to him about the Seelie ordeal, about what she’s supposed to do. She doesn’t mention how angry she feels, though it’s heavily implied. “You’re playing the diplomat? Again? That’s my job; that’s what I’m supposed to be doing—”

“I know that, but I’m the one with ties to the Seelies.”

Alec forces a smile and a laugh that sounds more like a quick, brief sigh. “Is that what you’re calling it now?” he jokes. Normally, she’d make a witty remark back to him, but now isn’t quite the right time for that. She doesn’t quite have enough strength for that right now.

“Alec, I’m on your side here. Work with me,” she tells him. And she is, always will be. Isabelle loves him more than he could ever know — like she said: his happiness is her utmost priority, and the thought that he’ll never get that breaks her heart, shatters it into a million tiny fragments of despair.

Alec says, “Really? I have followed _every_ rule. I’ve given up _everything_ —” He looks so lost, she doesn’t know what to do.

Her hand rests on his shoulder as she speaks, “We’ll find a way out of this.” Her words hold little hope, but they’re the only thing she can think to say, to do. Though she hopes Alec won’t see through it, she knows he likely will, because he knows her better than anyone.

Alec gently removes her hand, sighing. “Screw the rules,” he says. “Screw them. Screw all of this.” He walks away boldly without another word, and doesn’t turn back when Isabelle calls out his name.

Despite the heat of the situation, she can’t help but feel a slight swell of pride at his “screw the rules” outburst; it’s truly character development at its finest. It’s so, so unlike someone like Alec, someone who’s perfectly willing to sacrifice themselves in order to maintain honour. She hopes he goes to find Magnus, or something — it’ll do him good. He deserves to have some time off, even if it isn’t for long.

She doesn’t know Magnus, not really, but it seems like he could be good for Alec. He doesn’t strike him as Alec’s type, per say, but there’s no doubting the way they look and act around each other. Magnus is intriguing, and she hopes she can get to know him sooner or later. (But that doesn’t change the fact that, if they do start dating, she’s still going to have the sibling chat with him. And she’ll totally kick his ass if he breaks Alec’s heart.)

.

When Isabelle sees Alec come back into the institute at a time he’d normally deem impractically late, she can’t help the smile that forms upon her lips, or the comment that follows. “Slept at Magnus’s place last night?” She asks, turning to face him properly. So maybe this isn’t exactly subtlety at its finest, but it’s fun to tease regardless.

Alec quips, “Didn’t do much sleeping.”

Isabelle raises her eyebrows inquisitively. Well, she can’t quite say she was expecting Alec to say something as suggestive and vague (OK, maybe the “vague” part, but not the former) as that. Oh, the endless possibilities of situations that could’ve happened between them. Her heart aches in the best way fathomable.

Alec realises his _mistake_ (for lack of better phrasing) rather soon after. “I was helping treat Luke’s wounds, that’s all,” he follows up. Isabelle wants to shake her head in disbelief, but refrains.

“Really…?” she enquires, a suggestive tone to her voice.

Alec looks at her defensively. He gestures his arms out in a half-shrug as he speaks, “What?!”

She shoots him a look that screams _are you kidding me_ and _you’re so naïve_. Regardless, she says, “Nothing, I believe you.” She doesn’t, not in a million years, but she’s supposed to be attempting to be sly, so it will do for now.

Alec huffs, seeing right through her. Maybe that’s a skill she should work on. Is there an art to subtlety, one she can develop soon and with little to no effort? “OK, Magnus made cocktails,” he confesses. Isabelle stifles a squeal. She can’t believe this, can’t believe things are looking up for Alec after all this drama. It’s only the early days into their almost-relationship, but she hopes that Magnus will make Alec happier. “But I’m telling you, nothing else happened.”

If she wasn’t surrounded by so many people, she’d probably point a finger at him and call bullshit, but alas, inconvenience has taken its toll on her. Instead, she softens her gaze and her tone turns serious. “OK, I believe you,” she repeats. “But when you’re ready to talk about whatever you need to talk about, I’m here,” she tells him. She means it, and she prays that Alec will take it into consideration. It’s unlikely, but there’s still a shard of hope that remains within her and refuses to fracture.

“Hey, I talk to you!” Alec defends himself, rather badly at that. They both know it’s far from the truth — sure, she and Alec are close, but he’s still the most closed off person she’s ever known. He perpetually hides things from others, pushing them to the back of his mind, never letting anyone in. It’s not a healthy way to deal with problems, and Isabelle thinks he knows that, but he’s just too scared to do otherwise.

“About everything _but_ your personal life,” she points out. “You know, and it’s kind of not fair, because I talk to you about mine all the time.” She pauses to take a breath, clears her mind a little, then continues. “For example, I broke up with Meliorn.” It’s a touchy topic to mention for her right now, but she has to prove her point.

“Really? Turning over a new leaf?”

“He was a bit much. Apparently I need someone more Shadowhunter-ish.”

“Izzy, I realise that you’re trying to take some of the family heat, and I appreciate it, but you can’t change who you are.”

Isabelle wants to scream. She wants to yell “that’s rich coming from you” in his face, wants to tell him that he’s a hypocrite for thinking the complete opposite about himself. But it’s too harsh, and she doesn’t quite have enough backbone when it comes to her brother; she’s a bit of a softie in that area. Instead, she rolls her eyes, going for a more subtle, less grating way of calling him out. “Really… And you can?”

“I know who I am,” Alec tells her. Isabelle stifles a scoff and another eye-roll. If he knows who he is and he knows he can’t change that, why is he relentlessly trying to do otherwise?

Alec makes little sense. Isabelle doesn’t know how much more of this she can take.

.

They’re on a mission helping Jace and Clary when she next brings up the topic of Magnus.

“Oh, crap,” Alec mutters after Isabelle implies that Alec will need to _distract_ the woman at the desk so they can get the job done.

Isabelle smirks, moves closer to him. “Don’t worry, it’s good practice.”

“Huh?” Alec enquires, obviously not getting what she’s beginning to imply. By the Angel, why is he so naïve? To be frank, Isabelle probably doesn’t even need to master the art of subtlety anymore, because Alec wouldn’t know what she was talking about if it hit him in the head with a brick.

She clarifies, “You know, for asking out Magnus.” Her tone is frivolous and teasing, a smirk adorning her face. Alec sighs but doesn’t deny it all the same — Isabelle wonders if he’s genuinely going to, and at that thought, her heart flutters just a little. She covers up her elatedness by grabbing his shirt and starting to undo some of his buttons, in a likely bad but still hopeful attempt to woo the policewoman.

“What are you— what are you doing?”

“Unbuttoning your shirt, what’s it look like I’m doing?!” she exclaims as if it’s obvious — it _is_ — as Alec feebly tries to move her hands away from his shirt.

“Izzy, this is not really my department—” he protests. No kidding, she thinks. Perhaps if she was more… you know… a man? That’d likely be a big help to him.

“Come on, you do this sorta stuff all the time,” she tries to convince him, but rather badly at that. She knows perfectly well that he can’t flirt to save his life, let alone someone else’s, but it’s worth a shot.

Alec corrects her, “ _You_ do, I don’t!” Fair enough, she thinks, but what’s needed to be done has to be done.

“It’s _easy_ ,” she reassures him, giving him a little push towards her. “Come on.”

Judging by the bored expression and glare the woman shoots him moments later, Isabelle can only assume that it isn’t going well. Every fibre of her being hopes that Magnus has a thing for bad flirting and awkward stuttering. (It seems to be working well so far, thank God.)

.

Lydia Branwell is simultaneously everything Isabelle despises and admires in a person.

She’s firm, she’s powerful, and as much as she’s reluctant to admit it, she’s easy on the eye. Lydia is the kind of person who, once they know exactly what they want, will do everything in their power to get it. She’s rule-abiding and fierce and amazing in battle, but none of this stops the glare Isabelle sends in her direction, because this is _her family_. She may not get on amazingly with them, but she has to protect them, be on their side. Forever and always.

But still, something tells her that Lydia isn’t quite as tough as she lets on. She shoves that nagging voice to the back of her head; this is none of her business, and she has no right to make assumptions.

She still thinks that her arrival won’t do anyone good, though; there’s just something about her that makes her skeptical, and she’s not entirely certain why that is, but she tries to disregard that and stay true to her word (that she’d be on her best behaviour, basically. Her parents had made her and Alec promise before Lydia’s arrival).

.

Isabelle gets to talk with Magnus alone soon after, and Isabelle can’t help but think that perhaps she was wrong about Lydia’s arrival. After all, any opportunity she has to talk to the warlock (especially about her brother) is a rare occasion worth spending her time wisely, choosing her words carefully. Even if it was at the cost of an attack at the institute.

Magnus is intriguing, to say the least. He moves with a sort of elegance that makes even the most boring of everyday tasks seem less monotonous, and speaks with a certain wiseness (aside from his innuendos and other comments of the like) that Isabelle imagines he has acquired from a wide range of tiresome struggles, be it first hand or second. Looking past the obvious defence mechanism he hides behind to avoid attachment (or something like that), he seems genuine and kind; he’s the sort of person Isabelle would want to be acquainted with regardless of her brother.

(And let’s not even talk about how much she wants to drag him away and have a long, hearty discussion about makeup and fashion with him.)

“You almost done?” she asks him as he analyses… _whatever it is_ … and walks over to see for herself.

Magnus replies, “Patience is a virtue, my dear.” Wise words, but more often than not, it also comes as a vice; a powerful contradiction.

“Come on, I wanna get my hands on that thing.”

Magnus swiftly changes topic. “Speaking of which, how is Alexander?” Isabelle is grateful that she now doesn’t have to bring him up herself — it’s a touchy topic that’s hard to worm casually into a conversation. “I was hoping I’d hear from him.” Isabelle doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. Instead, she continues to analyse the _thing_ and rambles a few words about it. “It’s just so hard to tell if Alexander’s even interested. I mean, I can’t fathom why he wouldn’t be…”

“I’m not sure if you noticed,” she says, “but my brother isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type.” Rather unfortunately so, at that. He should be, he deserves to be sometimes.

“Hm, I suppose. With Clary’s arrival…”

“Valentine’s return…” she continues listing.

“Running the institute…”

“The envoy from the clave…”

“Who I hear is very impressive!” Magnus comments. “What else? Oh, babysitting Jace…”

“And dealing with our parents who are trying to find him a wife!” she exclaims, not exactly purposefully; her intention was not to hurt Magnus in any way. The words slip out of her mouth at their own accord — she wasn’t thinking about how insensitive telling Magnus was. She catches sight of Magnus’s defeated expression and guilt rises within her, a bashful smile at her lips. “Sorry,” she apologises.

Magnus replies, “It’s quite all right.” They both know it isn’t, not really. It can’t ever be with Alec’s happiness on the fence. “I suppose Alec is just following his duty, as always.” She doesn’t comment on the subtle bitterness his voice holds as he speaks.

“Not everyone gets the luxury of following their heart,” Isabelle says. She completely despises how her brother falls within this band of people, when all he deserves is the ability to do what he wishes.

.

The ground beneath her feet feels like it’s crumbling. The air feels like it’s being lifted away; her lungs hurt, not a breath dares to escape. Her world, her life, all she’s ever known — falling apart around her, far from fixable. She’s lost, no compass for guidance. All she’s ever known is far from what she thought it to be — it’s been a fabricated lie right from the very beginning, and she feels a fool for getting caught in it.

Her parents, despite their apparent past loyalty to the Clave, were ex-Circle members. They were on the bad guy’s side, fighting for injustice. Isabelle knows perfectly well that Robert and Maryse Lightwood have never exactly been the presidents of the Downworlder fan club, but this, this is too far. It’s overwhelming to think about, and as Alec tells her, she feels her heart sink in her chest. All this effort, all this pain, for no good.

It all makes sense now — that’s why Lydia’s here, to ensure they aren’t, in fact, evil. The puzzle pieces of that mystery are all coming together rapidly, so fast she can barely take it all in.

Jace protests beside her at Alec’s claim, as in denial as Isabelle herself. Alec just seems angry, he must be seeing red. He spits his words out like they’re poison, rolling off his tongue with a bitter taste. It’s no wonder he was practically trying to destroy the punching bag just moments prior to this conversation. (Not that she condones it! After all, he’s injured, and it can’t be doing him any good. Although, perhaps it is indeed fine that he’s taking his anger out on something other than human beings with fragile emotions, so it’s not exactly awful, per say.)

And just when she — _they_ , her and Jace — thought it couldn’t get any worse, Lydia shows up. She praises Jace briefly, to which he stubbornly refuses to reciprocate even vaguely (which causes Isabelle some slight amusement), then turns to face Alec. “Did you tell them?” she asks him, confusion swirling in Isabelle’s brain. What’s going on now, and how could it possibly be any worse than their parents being formerly in league with a psychopath?

“Tell us what?” she says, though it sounds more like a statement than a question due to the harshness of her voice.

Five words. Such a small number, really, but that’s all it takes to send Isabelle’s world entirely aflame —  as if it wasn’t bad enough already, with the news about their parents’ past hanging fresh in the air. “Lydia and I are engaged,” Alec declares. Her eyes widen; how is he taking this lightly? And more importantly, why did he agree? It’s selfish, but she sort of feels betrayed, in an odd sense. She expected a lot more from Alec, a lot more from him and Magnus.

She wanted him to be happy. Just… just for once. Apparently, for a reason unbeknownst to her, that was too much to ask for.

How could she have been stupid enough to believe that hope was on her side? It’s no wonder, really, that Jace is their favourite child. (And technically, he isn’t even a Lightwood.)

Alec has always been everyone’s lap dog. It’s always “do this!” and “do that!” and it’s insufferable to watch him destroy himself just to please other people who bring nothing but toxicity into his life. They use him, tell him constantly that he’s not good enough, even go to the extent of marrying him off. She wonders, does Alec _see_ any of this? Is he aware? Surely he must be — he’s the most perceptive, intelligent being Isabelle knows. So why does he let it happen?

It must be an insecurity thing, combined with the obvious “loyalty” idea he has engraved into his mind like some sort of permanent tattoo. People accept the treatment they believe they deserve, after all, so Alec obviously isn’t too fond of himself: a thought that breaks Isabelle’s heart.

Isabelle feels sick. Her head aches, but it fails to compare to how her heart feels. Her throat feels suddenly very restrictive; she can’t breathe.

“We’re getting married,” Lydia says, as if Alec’s announcement wasn’t informative enough. Isabelle wants to skin her alive, even though it’s probably not her fault.

She daren’t look over at Jace in this moment. Jace is dynamic when he’s angry, a bolt of lightening that strikes hard and sudden. He’s impulsive yet brooding, and he may hide behind his sarcasm sometimes (read: a lot of the time), but Jace is smart, in a way, and he knows that this is the wrong decision. “You can’t be serious,” he says. There’s an emotion in his voice, one that she can’t properly decipher, but she assumes it’s based on betrayal.

“You were supposed to tell them no!” Isabelle says, her words oddly feeble with a lack of the firmness they should have. And with one final blow, mustering up all the anguish and anger she possibly can in such a disheartening time, she glowers at him. “Whatever, it’s your life to ruin,” she snaps.

She walks away without another word, trying to contain her tears for as long as she can.

.

“Isabelle Lightwood, by order of the Clave, you are under arrest for high treason,” Lydia announces. Isabelle feels her heart stutter, sink.

Alec’s fiancée sure is turning out to be far from a keeper, much unlike the high hopes she initially had for her. Isabelle understands the whole “the law is the law” business, but when it comes to honour and doing what is morally right, protecting her family — _Alec!_ — and the Downworld is her number one priority. If Alec absolutely _has_ to marry a woman who he could never love, could it at least be with someone less… insufferable? Someone they could _both_ get along with?

Lydia may just be doing what she thinks is right, following the rules, taking orders from the Clave, but being absolutely willing to arrest her fiance’s sister — her future sister-in-law — is perhaps one or two steps past the line. Hell, scratch that, it’s probably a good thousand feet past the line!

Isabelle doesn’t understand Lydia. In fact, Isabelle doesn’t even understand _herself_ a lot of the time, but right now she gets the bigger picture. She can see how this is going to turn out in the long run for her and her family, but Lydia seemingly can’t, and it’s extremely worrying.

She wants to cry, really, but she can’t. She’s kept it together for all this time, powering through her struggles, getting it out of her system elsewhere.

Her face remains brave as she’s somewhat willingly taken away, not a modicum of emotion visible.

.

Alec fails to find Jace and retrieve the cup in the end. He sits down, his head hanging low in shame, letting Isabelle know that there’s now no other option but to go through with the trial. There’s so much sorrow and disappointment in his tone that she doesn’t quite know what to do.

She wants to be mad at him for being so stubborn, for messing with his parabatai bond, for proposing to Lydia, for being unable to see the bigger picture. She wants to, but she can’t. She loves him more than anything, and right now, ensuring that he doesn’t think the worst of himself is her biggest concern. She sighs heavily, perches to sit next to him. Her arms wrap around him protectively in comfort, and she says, “It’s OK, big brother.” She means it. “I know you tried your hardest, and I appreciate that. Really.” That, too.

“I’m sorry,” Alec says weakly, though he shouldn’t have to apologise. Isabelle rests her head in the crook of his shoulders, holding onto him tightly, letting him know that she’s here.

.

When Isabelle is put on trial, she asks Alec to convince Magnus to be her defence attorney. It’s a good decision, she thinks, for mostly two reasons.

Firstly, she trusts Magnus. She still hasn’t gotten to know him all that well, but she knows he’s passionate, witty, he can work his way around things, he’s cunning, caring and won’t go down without a fight — which, coincidentally, is exactly the type of person she needs to win this trial. Plus, Magnus is a Downworlder, so the Shadowhunters who are still rooted with prejudice opinions of him won’t see the big storm coming; it’s the perfect plan.

The second reason is her brother, unsurprisingly. It’s a _subtle_ way to get Alec to talk to Magnus, to perhaps better their almost-relationship. She still has firm belief that Magnus is good for Alec, that he’ll help him come out of his shell, and likely reassure him that he _is_ good enough, despite what anyone else dare say. They compliment each other: opposites do attract, after all. There’s a sort of magnetic bond that draws them together, and though she hasn’t witnessed much of it, she can see it’s fragile. Just waiting: waiting to break, pull them apart. Acting on their feelings is the one thing they can do to strengthen that.

Though she doubts anything will happen too soon, pushing them together is the least she can do.

.

The trial was a success; Isabelle got that much right. Magnus was nothing short of amazing in court, and he even managed to prompt Lydia to agree after reevaluating her choice to go against Isabelle.

It did not, however, change Alec’s relationship with Magnus. In fact, from what she’s heard from Alec, it’s likely made it even worse — an outcome far from her original intention.

After confessing to Magnus that he’s marrying Lydia, Alec has only become more bitter towards the other man. Petulant, even. Distant and refrained, avoiding conversation at any opportunity given. Isabelle doesn’t like it at all, and she’s almost entirely certain that Alec doesn’t really either, no matter how hesitant he is to admit it.

If Alec wasn’t far enough into the closet before all this drama ensued, he’s been pushed another 10 metres deeper in, and he’s got only himself to blame for that. He really does have no excuse for pushing Magnus away even when he’s marrying Lydia — it might be awkward, but there isn’t any reason why they can’t remain civil acquaintances, at the very least. The tension between them is just inconvenient and unnecessary.

She’s also noticed that Alec has generally become more sad since the proposal, hiding away even more. Every guard he already had up has been thickened at an alarming rate, and it’s impossible to break them down like she initially thought Magnus could do. He’s got a permanent case of _resting bitch face_ , an unsolvable disaster like a puzzle with several pieces missing.

It’s heartbreaking to watch him fall apart inside, nothing but perpetual stubbornness holding him together. Really, she’d quite like to shout at him, give him a reality check, but that’s just additional pressure on Alec, and that’s the opposite of what he needs right now. Besides, he stuck by her side all throughout the trial — Isabelle sort of owes him one now, so she makes a vow to herself: stand by Alec, no matter what.

So, regardless of the reluctance she bares secretly within herself, Isabelle holds a brave face and says to her brother, “OK.”

Alec raises his eyebrows inquisitively, makes a surprised expression. “OK? You’re not gonna make a big argument? I mean, not that I’m protesting, but I’m shocked.” His voice has a somewhat lighthearted tone to it that makes her heart ache, because by the Angel, she misses hearing it more commonly.

“You stood by me through my trial and now I’m standing by you, big brother.” Alec smiles, Isabelle cheers internally. She hopes that him knowing that she’ll stand by his side no matter what will have some sort of influence on his decision to marry Lydia, to cast Magnus aside.

But in the grand scheme of things, if Alec marrying Lydia is _really_ the thing he wants most like he claims it is, then who is Isabelle to deprive him of that?

However, this isn’t quite enough to stop Isabelle from meddling once more. So, in one final attempt to prove that Alec would be happier otherwise, she invites Magnus to the wedding. She prays that he’ll come — though she honestly doubts it, noting the current situation — and she prays that Alec won’t go through with it.

.

It’s wedding night, and Isabelle has never felt more nervous for anything in her entire life. Ever. And it’s not even _her_ wedding. She walks down the aisle with as much confidence as she can gather, smiling at Clary and Simon along the way, but really, she feels like collapsing. Nervous butterflies crowd in her stomach, fluttering around aimlessly, making her feel uneasy. Her eyes scan over the crowd looking for a certain Warlock, and when she can’t find him, she breathes a sigh of desperation and despair at the knowledge that it’s highly likely that Alec will go through with it.

Lydia looks beautiful; her hair and dress are stunning beyond belief. Isabelle wants more than anything to criticise her and be able to let her anger out through that, but she can’t. She’s a nice person, too, as she’s discovered, so at least the marriage won’t be completely unbearable for the both of them. Alec doesn’t look so bad himself — he looks so handsome in his suit, standing tall and proud, it’s sort of making her teary-eyed.

But none of that stops her heart from breaking when Lydia reaches to draw the rune on him. She can feel it straining, snapping, disintegrating. Like glass, it lays shattered on the floor — defeated, exposed.

Then, by some sort of miracle, the door opens; Magnus pours in, completely unannounced, and she breathes a sigh of relief. But Alec hasn’t moved — he’s completely still, stuck in the same position as he was before. Lydia has moved, her arms dropping to her sides, but Alec is frozen in time. She can hear him breathing, taking in uneven, heavy breaths, and she wants to comfort him.

Maryse snaps her head around at sonic speed, glowering at the Downworlder with a look of such disgust Isabelle has only ever seen once or twice before. “What’s that Warlock doing here?”

“Izzy, did Alec invite Magnus?” Jace asks, clearly perplexed. He’s standing there by Alec’s side, stunned, struggling to take in everything that’s been happening.

She shakes her head lightly, “No, I did, but I didn’t think he’d show.” That’s not a lie — she genuinely didn’t. Why would he, after all? Who would want to watch their almost-lover marry someone who isn’t them? Well, Magnus, apparently.

Maryse stands up, starting to walk over to him, and Isabelle gulps. This can’t go well, she thinks. “Magnus, leave this wedding now!” she snaps, her words spoken through gritted teeth.

Magnus holds up a finger, silencing her. “Maryse, this is between me and your son; I’ll leave if he asks me to,” he says firmly. Alec is still frozen at this point, breaths coming with even more struggle than before. His eyes are locked to Magnus’s, previously unspoken words exchanged in a conversation merely between their eyes. She can’t tell what they’re saying, thinking, but she can see a slither of hesitance growing inside Alec.

“You gonna be OK, buddy?” Jace asks him, snapping Alec out of his trance.

Lydia says his name, a warm smile on her face that Isabelle is grateful for. It seems like she’s caught on — so she really is as intelligent and perceptive as she looks. “I can’t breathe,” Alec utters, gasping. Lydia offers him words of comfort in return, telling him it’s OK. It is, this time. It really is. “I can’t do this,” Alec finally says, and Isabelle wants to throw a fucking party right there and then.

He’s not getting married. He’s not getting married. He’s not getting married.

The words repeat in her head, over and over as a source of relief and comfort, constant like a broken record player. Honestly, God bless Magnus Bane. Isabelle doubts that Alec wouldn’t have objected if it wasn’t for him interrupting.

“I thought we were doing the right thing, but this— this isn’t it. Lydia, I’m so sorry,” Alec explains.

“Hey, you deserve to be happy. Go. I’ll be fine,” she reassures him. Isabelle respects her so much in this moment, because despite the embarrassment this’ll cause he, she’s still putting Alec’s needs above her own in a caring way. She isn’t blowing up on him, getting angry and upset. She’s doing exactly the right thing to do in this situation.

Alec turns away from Lydia, from what could’ve been, and faces Magnus. He’s rooted to his spot like a tree again, his eyes never leaving Magnus’s. Isabelle wonders what he’s going to do, how he’s going to react. It feels like an eternity has passed before he paces down the steps.

Maryse watches in awe as Alec pauses at the bottom of the steps, evaluating his options here, making sure his final decision is the right one.

Then, he starts walking again. He strides confidently down the aisle, hard look on his face, eyes never breaking contact with Magnus’s. “Alec, what are you d—” Maryse begins to say, Alec cutting her off firmly.

“Enough,” he says, and it _is_. It has been for a while now, and Isabelle’s willing to bet all her life savings that Alec regrets not saying that before today. She feels the same, too.

Alec pulls Magnus towards him by grabbing the lapels of his suit, and, as if calling the wedding off wasn’t enough to take in for one day, he kisses him. He’s actually kissing Magnus, right here, right now, right in front of everyone he knows and could possibly want to make a good impression in front of. He’s thrown everyone else’s needs out the window, catering to his own, and he’s kissing the man he’s wanted to kiss for God-knows-how-long.

Isabelle breathes a sigh of relief she’s been holding for the longest time (probably since Alec first came out to her), and feels utterly elated as Alec deepens the kiss. She’s never been more proud; he’s sacrificed so much for his own happiness. But he’ll always have her; her and Jace. Probably Max, too. Hell, even Clary and Simon will approve and be there for him — it feels a little too good to be true, so she won’t take it for granted, but she will celebrate while she can.

It all feels so surreal — and to think there was a point where she doubted her own dedication to ensuring that he and Magnus would end up together.

Alec eventually pulls away, breathing heavy, slightly taken aback by his own courage. “You never cease to amaze me, Alexander,” Magnus says, practically glowing from both surprise and happiness.

“Yeah… What’d I just do?” he replies. He looks towards his mother immediately afterwards, taking in the appalled look on her face and cringing slightly. She walks away without another word, taking Robert with her. Isabelle rushes down to be by his side, and she can hardly contain her smile.

“Alec, I am so proud of you,” she says honestly, and the smile she receives in return is enough reassurance to know that everything will be all right, because he’s happy, and that’s all she’s ever wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering renaming this to 'The Art of Me Softly Dying', because this was seriously a pain in the ass to write. I'd like to think that the final product was worth it, though. I was initially going to post this tomorrow, after a shit tonne of extra editing, but I thought 'nah, fuck it,' and here we are. I sincerely hope you enjoyed that mess, and I hope you'll forgive me for how rambly and awkward this is in some (read: most) places.
> 
> [ [x](http://albertorosedne.tumblr.com) ]


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